I'm sorry fatass
by ultranaff
Summary: Cartman takes care of a drunk Kyle. Oneshot.


**I'm Sorry... Fatass**

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Summary: Cartman takes care of a drunk Kyle

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Disclaimer: Who owns South Park? not me

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"_If there's one thing I've learned, its always to fight hate with more hate. We're not the freaks of society; everyone else is"-Eric Cartman_

Cartman drummed his fingers on the desk impatiently as his eyes followed the slow moving minute hand of the classroom clock. His friends provided no amusement as Stan and Kyle gossiped like two girls on caffeine, and Kenny busily curved curse words into his desk. The teacher, whom was old and withered, hadn't really acknowledged that most of the class wasn't listening to her teach math.

"HEY FATASS!" the name rang shrilly through the air. He craned his head around in annoyance "god dammit, what, Jew?"

Kyle's face was beaming, "we're still coming over to watch movies on your moms new triple screen TV right?"

"As soon as you stop being such a fucking jew!" he snapped, swiveling back in his chair.

"Damn. What's up his ass?" he heard Stan say.

"His moms crack pipe, after accidentally sitting on it." Laughter was thrown around between the three boys, and then Kenny would add on something about wanting to have sex with his mom, and then the bell would ring for dismissal.

"God damn fucking hippies." He hissed, the first student out the door and storming down the empty hallways. The only thing in his field of vision were the school doors and he was so close, until…

Suddenly, his scarf, which streamed behind him, caught on something, and yanked him backwards, and into a pair of arms. Gasping from the shock, he looked up to find Kyle's smirking face. "So…I can still come over, right?"

His eyes twitched. "NO!!... god dammit... NO KYLE!!" Kyle dropped him so he crashed onto the floor. "Ok so I'll see you at 6?"

"NO FUCKING JEWS!"

"See ya then dude!" he waved cheerily, walking away with a big fat grin.

The bloated boy heaved himself up, "I'm going to cut off your balls." He muttered, but Kyle was no longer there to hear it. His eyes sunk to the floor, feeling quite comfortable where he sat, in the middle of the lonely hallway. A couple moments later, he heard the clacking of heels. "Well hello there mister Eric fat ass."

Groaning inwardly, his line of vision traveled up to a balding, old transsexual, with poorly applied lipstick. "Hello Principal Garrison."

"Principal Garrison…" his face flushed with pride. "Golly, I get so _moist_ every time I hear that."

"Sick."

"Anyway, Eric, you were tardy again, so you get detention."

His face tightened, and his fists clumped into two little balls, as if trying to squeeze all the frustration out of him.. "God. DAMMIT."

-o-o-o-o-

It really wasn't his fault that he was late again. He barely slept that night, due to the clawing and screaming sexual fury of his mothe'rs late night rendezvous. He doesn't care what anyone says, there was totally something unnerving about having your mother have such fierce animal sex once you were old enough to realize exactly what it was that she was doing. So there he lay, in his bed, tossing and turning, finally receiving a couple hours of sleep only to wake up late and rush out the house in a daily panic.

It was turning into a cycle, which was giving him countless tardies for school. School, a personal itch in his balls that never seemed to go away. And then, to top it all off, he had to spend three sweet hours in detention for his tardiness. With Butters.

"Oh my parents are gonna be awful sore at me when they find out I got myself into detention." Butters twiddled his thumbs, "gosh, but I sure do deserve it though, d-do you know what I did Cartman?"

Cartman's bored gaze never left the window.

"w-well I was a bad kid and I tried smoking tobacco with Kenny behind the school shed. Gosh I shouldn't have let Kenny let me do that."

Butter paused momentarily for a response, but he clearly wasn't getting one. He let the silence flow for a couple more minutes until he broke it again. "Hey Cartman..." Butters clamped his hands and dared to look up at the intimidating figure. "Who's your best friend?"

He finally responded, but flatly. "No one. I hate everyone."

"Well gosh, that can't be true Cartman. Y-you can't hate everyone."

"No its true Butters, I hate everyone" his eyes narrowed, "especially you."

"G-g-golly. Well I know that. You've sure done some awful stuff to me. But you can't hate your friends or your family or anything like that."

"Why not?"

"Because you sure do hang around them an awful lot."

He snickered at the infantile creature. "Yea, so?"

"W-well so... if you choose to be around people all the time, th-then that must mean there's something you like about them."

"God dammit Butters will you turn around and leave me alone!"

The blonde haired hick did so with a blushing face, and Cartman resumed his angry thoughts in peace. An hour later, he was set free, and Cartman's feet were sloshing through the evening snow, heading home ready to relieve his anger by kicking his cat around for a bit.

-o-o-o-o-

"Hello Honey." his mothers voice rang sweetly from the kitchen at the moment of his arrival. "Hi Meem." he muttered, heading straight for his room.

'Oh honey," her voice floated up the stairs, "don't go in your room just now, Mommy was using it and hasn't had time to clean up." his hand repelled from the knob like it was covered with shit. "Ahh sick!." he squealed, stomping back down the stairs. "Meem!" he snapped, "I'm going out again."

"Oh ok honey," she sang "wrap up"

"Stupid bitch." he muttered as the door slammed behind him, wishing nothing more than to get away from his selfish whorish mother. Except, it was then that he realized that he didn't actually have anywhere to go.

He swallowed painfully.

Settling down onto the steps of his house, it was getting dark but the whiteness of the snow was still evident. It was so pure, and clean. He imagined himself smothered in it. Rolling around, choking in the purity. The image was so clear that he almost forgot about where he was.

All until his stomach rumbled, snapping him back into reality. With a sigh, Cartman dug into his backpack and pulled an old granola bar, and as he sat there the wheat and nuts grind through his teeth, feelings of hatred towards his mother, Stan, Kyle, Kenny, all returned.

_Y-you can't hate everyone. _Butter's stupid jittery voice floated through his ears.

That stupid hick was always full of shit. So what if he hated everyone? He had every reason to. Its not like anyone was actually nice to him. Ever since he was little, he was called fatass, big tits, and retard. And now, as the years went on, Cartman still couldn't think of one person he could call a friend.

If he ever needed help, who was there to turn to? Who was there to help? Everyone would just let him fall. Or cause him to fall. Just like Kyle that afternoon.

Except. When he fell, Kyle _did_ catch him.

_There must be something you like about them._

("Hey Cartman") Kenny stood before him, his red parka standing out against the backdrop of the snow. "You coming to Clyde's party or what?"

He blinked up at his friend, his dirty face hidden by his jacket, "What party?"

("The party at his house.") Kenny motioned down the dark street, (Jesus, he announced it in homeroom today. Was there too much fat in your ears?")

"Shut up welfare." he snorted, "I don't even feel like going" he paused. "Who's there?"

("Everyone fatass. ") He turned away from him, and a pang of anxiety hit Cartman's chest. He hurriedly threw on his backpack and jumped to his feet. "Wait, I wanna come"

Kenny shrugged, not caring enough to wonder why Cartman changed his mind, but allowing him to tag along all the same. Cartman finished gulfing down his granola bar before allowing the wrapper to float freely in the air.

("You know, you shouldn't be littering.")

"Stop being such a god damn hippy. It doesn't matter, the plastic goes back into the ground anyway."

("You dumbass, plastic doesn't biodegrade.")

"EY! Shut the hell up Kenny. What do you know? You're poor!" He could feel Kenny's growl beneath the suffocating parka. Cartman's eyes narrowed. "You sound like Kyle and Stan. God I hate those guys"

("Well they're gonna be there, so maybe you shouldn't come") he replied, folding his arms.

"Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he snorted. They reached the door of Clyde's house and music was clearly heard from inside. There was also the loud sea of chatter that was characteristic of most parties

Clyde answered the door "hey guys, oh... Cartman." His face fell into a scowl, "what are you doing here douchebag?"

"Going to a party what does it look like?" He shoved his way through and entered a living room cramped with people. They socialized nosily, and the drinks were flowing. A line for the keg ran all the way from the living room and into the kitchen. Those who weren't in line, were dancing drunkenly or smooching on someone who was less sober than themselves. Cartman observed the scene with some annoyance.

"Cartmannn!" Two familiar bodies staggered towards him. Drinks in both hands, they held onto each other for support.

"Hey fags." he grinned cruelly. "Having a good 'fucking' time? And I mean that in the most literal sense possible"

"Oh Cartman" Stan shook his head, "stop being such a... fatass."

"I will as soon as you admit you wanna POUND ass." He laughed as Kyle quickly pulled away from Stan and took another swig of beer.

Stan, slightly hurt from his friend's withdrawal, threw a concerned look. "Jesus Kyle slow down, that's like your 11th beer!"

Cartman raised his brows, surprised at the Jew. "Damn Kyle, keep that up and you'll _almost_ be as bad as Stan's dad." He grinned. "Almost."

"Shut the hell up Cartman!"

Kenny approached the group, intervening between the two, carrying a bundle full of liquor. ("HEY GUYS!") He grinned, truly happy. ("what's your tipple?!")

He slurped down vodka with no shame while Cartman muttered something about being white trash. Kyle's face suddenly brightened, settling his eyes back on Cartman "you gon-na have anything.. to d-rink Cartman?"

He raised a brow. "No Jew, and you shouldn't either."

"Why not…? " he frowned stupidly, his eyes glazed over.

"Because you'll become 10 times stupider than you already are."

It seemed that each one of Cartman's insults were prickling Kyle under his skin. He snatched the vodka from Kenny's hands and took a long righteous swig himself. Cartman's brow furrowed as he watched Kyle's vision blur, and his stance stagger. "Jew. Slow down!"

"Aw Cartman's concerned." Kenny chuckled, giving himself a swig too. Cartman just sighed and shook his head. Drinking was always so stupid to him. After seeing his mother topple around the house, smelling of alcohol, and then to watch all his friends party drunk, it made Cartman drift further from stupid shit like this. Stupid shit like Clyde's party. He couldn't even remember why he decided to come.

A hand fell on his shoulder. "Are you really concerned?" Kyle slurred in his ear and Cartman's body immediately weakened.

Oh yea.

-o-o-o-o-

Hours had passed and Cartman was still there watching every drunk expression, watching every fumble of the feet, and every mouth slur something stupid, while he, Cartman remained on the couch, sober and respectable, and completely pissed off.

Stan and Kyle, or what he liked to call them 'Style', were giggling in a corner. He observed the look Stan gave Kyle as they laughed. It was quite clear that the boy admired him... hell, even loved him.

And so Cartman's stomach churned in disgust at his loving gaze, only to be amused by the fact that Kyle neither noticed or cared.

He got up and peered out the window. The snow was falling hard now, against the black of the night sky. He liked that living in a small town meant that there was little light pollution, although it also meant that there were lame house parties.

"Hey fatass." Kenny slurred, appearing beside him. "Are you gonna have a beer or what?"

Cartman sighed. "No Kenny… no thanks."

The Irish boy blinked his blue eyes, and scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward. Usually the word fatass followed a 'fuck you' or playful 'I hate you guys'. However, the sorrowful expression that he used instead made Kenny feel a bit terrible.

'Uh Cartman," he screwed the cap back on his vodka, "is there something wrong?"

"No."

Kenny caught him darting a glancing towards Kyle. He blinked, too drunk to figure anything out at that moment. So he went by his instinct. He yelled. "KYLE!"

Cartman looked frightened. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, "I really don't know." And drifted off, into the mass center of the party. Cartman found Kenny gone, and Kyle by his side. "Whats up?" He drawled. "Did you call?"

Cartman gazed at the boys face, flushed with alcohol. His eyes were disoriented, obviously he was fighting his lids from closely completely. His balance was completely off, and if Cartman didn't do something soon, he was going to…..

"Watch out!" he shot out a hand and grabbed him.

…fall. Kyle clutched onto his arm. "Th-thanks man….. dude. I don't feel so good" he groaned.

"Christ." Cartman muttered, annoyed. "Where's Stan? Can't he take you to the bathroom?" But Stan was passed out on the sofa, drool emerging from his open, gaping mouth.

Cartman sighed, helping Kyle stay straight while he toppled around, mumbling stupidly. "I'm sorry, I dint come, for TV, to your house."

"It's ok, I didn't invite you."

His face furrowed into an offended but dazed expression. "You did too…!" And then he completely passed out.

"Oh sweet jesus." Cartman groaned, dragging him out the house. He was so heavy unconscious. Cartman wasn't use to taking care of anyone but himself.

The snow was falling lightly, but the cold was intense. Cartman shivered, and then wondered if Kyle was going to be ok. His skin was pretty pale. He laid him on the ground and patted his face gently. "Kyle?" he muttered. "God dammit... Kyle..."

Slowly his eyes twitched open, looking up at him with a glazed expression. "Cartman..." he mumbled, falling in and out of consciousness.

"What Jew...?"

"I'm sorry…."

He blinked. "For what?"

"For being annoying."

"Its okay Kyle." He blurted, not really meaning what he just said. Kyle wasn't really annoying. He wondered if he knew that.

Before either of them realized it, Kyle had reached out and took one of his gloved hands. Their eyes locked for a moment, as if sharing something important, all the animosity between them gone for one peaceful second.

But then, all of a sudden, bile exploded from his mouth, filling the night air. "You okay?" Cartman asked through gritted teeth. Kyle nodded, on his hands and knees, dry heaving into the snow. He smirked at him, suddenly in a more sober state of mind now that the alcohol was spewed in the snow. "Sorry fatass."

He growled, wiping the vomit off his chin. "its okay you fucking jew." being forgiving for the second time that night.

Kyle finally stopped and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, revealing another amused smile. Cartman helped him to his feet, watching him wobble a little bit, and then hold onto him for support. Their eyes locked again, and Kyle's lips clumsily hit his cheeks.

"Thanks." He grinned before stumbling back into the party. Shocked, Cartman touched his cheek, feeling it to be sticky and warm. Kyle. He just threw up. He just kissed him. And he was feeling strangely warm inside. Maybe he didn't hate everyone.

Maybe.


End file.
